Wounds of War
by Oboe-Wan
Summary: A mainly sentimental story (with a lot of humor as well!) with some philosophical and political undertones - Post-EW, the cast gathers for a political convention (PG for mild language, courtesy of Mr. Maxwell)
1. Default Chapter

"Good morning!"

The young man glanced up through some tendrils of pale blonde hair at the glowing screen.

"Morning. Do the Preventers know you're using their communications satellite, Relena?" he asked, half-serious, half-teasing.

The girl grinned. "Sally doesn't mind. Besides, what's the use of being Vice Foreign Minister if I can't pull a few strings to say hello to my brother?"

Zechs smiled. "What indeed. Did Noin arrive safely?" he asked, trying not to sound as concerned as he was.

"_You_ know her shuttle doesn't arrive until this afternoon," Relena replied with a little laugh.

"Hm. I daresay it slipped my mind." Of course he knew. But all the same, she might've…

"She did call an hour or so ago to let us know they were on schedule, though," Relena continued, as if anticipating his thoughts.

He let out a breath he'd been unconsciously holding.

Relena, who'd been all smiles before, looked suddenly serious. "You… you don't look well, Milliardo…"

Zechs flinched at the name. It was different, coming from his little sister – his little Relena – but still, it conjured up images he didn't want to imagine. A white-haired man with a shrewd, appraising glance, a pretty blonde girl with frightening eyes, a Gundam the color of dried blood…

"I'm fine Relena. Don't worry about me, please."

"Silly. Of course I worry about you. Please tell me what's the matter…" she beseeched, eyes pleading as much as her tone.

"I…I just haven't been sleeping well, that's all…" Truth be told, he just hadn't been sleeping. Naturally he looked a bit ill, but it was worth it, to avoid the dreams…

"Have you seen anyone about it?" she inquired, concerned.

"What do you mean?"

"A doctor… I'm sure they could give you a prescription."

Falling into a dreamless, drug-induced stupor was starting to sound appealing. If he could manage to pass this off as mere insomnia, he might be able to avoid…

Every psychologist in the colonies was probably dying to analyze Zechs Merquise.

"What do you think is causing it?" Relena interupted his musings, delicate eyebrows drawing together.

He wished he could lie to her… but something in her beautiful blue eyes seemed to extract it from his soul, and send it to his lips before his conscious self could intercede. "Nightmares. I've been having the most disturbing dreams. It's nothing to worry about," he added quickly, as her expression of concern deepened. "I'm sure it'll pass in no time…"

"No, I think this is something more serious," she told him earnestly.

"Relena, I didn't want to trouble you. I didn't even intend to tell you –"

"It's a good thing you did," she stated briskly, crossing her arms. "Get some rest. I'll have Noin call when she arrives."

"Relena…"

"Don't worry," she said, expression softening. "I won't tell Noin about all this if you don't want me to."

Zechs smiled. "Thank you, Relena." Although, if he knew Noin, she probably al-

"Although, if I know Noin, she probably already has some idea," Relena voiced his thought before he could finish thinking it.

Relena always made him smile.

"I'll be in touch. Please try to get some rest. Out…" Relena's face disappeared, and Zechs switched off the screen, marvelling at what a strong person she had grown up to be.

Blinking at the first harsh rays of sunlight after her long ride in the shuttle, Noin straightened the jacket of her pants suit and picked up her carry-on bag as she departed from the shuttle to the many-windowed spaceport terminal.

"Miss Noin!" She hadn't been sure if anyone would be there to meet her until she saw and heard the enthusiastically waving blonde youth, dressed in formally casual attire – a white dress-shirt, grey vest, and khakis. If nothing else in the Universe was constant, Quatre's wardrobe was.

"Hi Quatre," Noin greeted him when she was at a distance that didn't require shouting. It shouldn't have surprised her that he'd grown – but it did. The last time she'd seen him, he'd been below shoulder level, and now he was as tall, or taller, than she was. Quatre smiled, and Noin, smiling as well, couldn't help noticing how nearly impossible it was to be unhappy while that young man was smiling. There was something downright communicable about Quatre's emotions – he was contagious the minute you looked in those grey-indigo eyes. Pleasant as this was while Quatre was happy, Noin had seen her share of sad Quatre.

"Was your trip all right?" he asked, politely taking her bag.

"It was long," she replied, cracking her back as they walked. "Twenty-two hours on a shuttle… I feel tired and grimy, and I could use a little real food. It's nice to see a familiar face. Are you speaking at Relena's conference as well?" she wanted to know, brushing a few strands of dark hair out of her eyes.

"Probably. She wanted all of us Gundam pilots to attend, at least. In fact, there's the rest of your luggage. Over here! Duo!"

A tall young man – still dressed in black, still with a thick braid of chestnut hair to his knees – had her duffel bag slung over his shoulder, and was followed by a pretty girl with dark hair who was wheeling her suitcase.

"Hey Noin," Duo greeted.

"Hello. This must be Hildie?" Noin smiled at the dark-haired girl.

Hildie grinned at the woman everyone told her she looked so much like. "Nice to meet you, Miss Noin."

"It's a pleasure," Noin replied, shaking her hand. She'd actually seen Hildie before, over a year and a half ago, aboard the Peacemillion, but Hildie had hardly been in any condition for introductions then.

"What's this whole shin-dig about, anyway?" Duo inquired as they continued out of the spaceport. "Heero isn't exactly too full of details."

Noin snorted at that statement of the obvious then shrugged. "Relena asked me to prepare a presentation of the applications of mobile suit technology in peacetime. There are a lot of people with extensive training and no way to put it to use. That's all I know about the convention."

"That's all I've heard as well," Quatre affirmed.

Duo cocked his head. "I'm guessing Relena asked Zechs to come," he stated shrewdly.

Noin winced. Trust Duo to pentrate right to the heart of the matter. "I think she did, yes."

"And being that he's not with_ you_, I'm guessing that he didn't," Duo continued, glancing sideways at Noin.

"No, he didn't. The terra-forming project is going really smoothly, and he's reluctant to –"

"You were never this full of it before, Noin," Duo interupted, stopping abruptly with his hands on his hips.

"Duo!" Hildie said softly, sounding chiding.

"No, you're right," Noin replied, crossing her arms.

Duo shrugged theatrically. "Well, who can blame the guy for not wanting to come lecture all the people he tried to blow to smithereens – Ow! Hildie!"

Hildie looked away innocently as Duo rubbed his ribs where she'd elbowed him.

Duo _was_ right. They all knew, of course, but it took Duo to just come right out and say it.

Quatre walked quietly behind the others, who were equally quiet. Was it too much to ask of Duo to just be tactful and sensitive for _once_?

Apparently so. Quatre couldn't resist smiling again. He'd _missed_ his friends. Duo helped Hildie hoist Noin's luggage over the curb, and Quatre grinned a little more. He'd been teasing Duo about having found a little Noin of his very own for a while now. They weren't _that_ similar as far as personality, but they certainly did _look_ alike. Heaven knew – he wouldn't mind doing the same thing himself…

All the same, he _really_ wished Relena would quit trying to play matchmaker for him. It wasn't so much that he minded his friend trying to fix him up with some nice girl. It just bothered him when that "nice girl" happened to be Dorothy Catalonia.

"You'd be so _good_ for her Quatre," Relena had pleaded. "She just such a confused, unhappy person."

"I…I forgive Dorothy, Relena, but I…" Quatre unconsciously put his hand at his side. It still hurt sometimes.

Relena hadn't pressed the issue at that time, but Quatre didn't think she'd drop it completely.

"You look so serious Quatre," Noin was saying, after she'd fallen back a step.

"I'm sorry," Quatre replied, looking up and trying to smile.

"Uhh… Quatre?" Duo started, looking over his shoulder, "Where'd we park?"

Noin choked. "Oh God, do you mean you boys are old enough to drive?!"

Quatre laughed, but Duo looked wounded.

"Hey! I could handle Deathscythe – some puny little automobile isn't gonna pose any sort of challenge," he told her indignantly.

"Garage C, third level, on the left, about halfway down the row of cars – and Quatre has the keys," Hildie told Duo wearily as he started to search his pockets.


	2. 

__

I made an appointment for you, Relena's message read. _Please keep it._

"You'd damn well better appreiciate this, Relena," Zechs muttered to himself as he sat in the psychiatrist's office. "Because I wouldn't do this for another living soul." Well, that wasn't quite true…

"Mr. Peacecraft?" the receptionist called.

Zech's jaw clenched, and rest of the jaws of the people in the waiting room dropped. If Relena was allowed to be Darlian, why did she have such a problem with him using Merquise?

Zechs stood, followed the receptionist into the corridor, and entered the room she indicated to him.

"Please make yourself comfortable, Mr. Peacecraft," (flinch) "and the doctor will be with you in a moment."

"Thank you."

Seating himself on the edge of the couch, Zechs expected at least a ten-minute "moment." The waiting room had been fairly full…

Seconds later, a slight woman in her mid-twenties hurried through the door. She smiled winningly at him.

"Hello Mr. Peacecraft. The associates were fighting over your appointment, and _I_ won," she smirked.

Zechs blinked. "I'd like to ask that you don't use that name, please. I go by Zechs Merquise."

"Really… well, I'm _very_ eager to discuss you plethora of names, _and_ your…mask. But I understand you've been suffering from some troubling dreams." Her eyes were gleaming strangely, and Zechs was starting to sweat. "Before we get into that, do you mind if I ask what made you _finally_ decide to seek help?"

"My sister. Miss Relena Darlian made this appointment, you'll find… and I told her I'd come. If it were strictly up to me…"

"I see," the psychiatrist replied coldly. "Well then… please make yourself comfortable, and we'll talk about these dreams of yours."

"I'm perfectly comfortable, thank you," Zechs replied stubbornly, crossing his arms.

She snorted. "Fine, fine…" She seated herself in her chair and crossed her legs. "How often do you have these dreams?"

"As often as I sleep," Zechs muttered.

"Please speak up," she said shortly.

"Every time I sleep," he repeated irritably.

"And what emotions do they evoke?"

A kind of deep self-loathing… and fear… They frightened him as nothing had since a six-year old Milliardo watched his home burn…

"They're extremely unsettling," Zechs said aloud.

A muscle in the therapist's cheek twitched. She obviously didn't deal well with unresponsive patients. "Why don't you describe one of these dreams to me?"

"They're confused images. Fairly incoherent." The Epyon was much more frightening as a dream than as a reality…Himself as a little boy, seated in the command-chair of Libra, wondering why everyone was calling him "commander,"… the flash of a descending beam-saber and the twisted slag of a White Taurus suit,…Noin in a white dress, covered in blood… and the mask he couldn't take off…

"Dreams are made up of symbols," the psychiatrist was saying, "if we examine them, we can puzzle out their meaning."

"I see."

The silence hung thickly in the air.

"Very well then, if you're not willing to talk about _that_ Mr. Peac – Merquise," she amended indulgently, "We'll move on to something else…"

Zechs raised an eyebrow at her.

"What _is_ the difference between Zechs Merquise and Milliardo Peacecraft?" (flinch) she asked, leaning forward eagerly.

"I don't have more than one personality, if that's what you're suggesting," Zechs informed her coldly.

"Of course," she said, not sounding in the least convinced. "Why is it that you wince everytime I say your name?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Zechs lied.

"Don't you? Milliardo Peacecraft."

(flinch)

"Milliardo Peacecraft."

(flinch)

"Milliardo Peacecraft."

(flinch)

"Milliardo Peacecraft."

(flinch)

"What exactly are you trying to accomplish?" Zechs inquired wearily, rubbing his temples.

The therapist smiled triumphantly. "You need to admit that you have a problem. Any…number of problems."

"I'll do so readily. That fact, however, in no way encourages me to discuss them with you. Excuse me." Standing quickly, Zechs stalked from the room in a trail of long silver-blonde hair. 

"Duo…next time, I drive," Quatre said faintly as Duo stared in disbelief at the slip of paper in his hand. For once, Duo was at a loss for words. Noin was having a very difficult time restraining her laughter.

"Duo, there is a speed limit for a very good reason…" Hildie said, doing a _much_ better job of concealing her amusement.

"That bastard cut me off… I was ticked…" Duo muttered.

"Well, things happen, but it isn't safe to take your frustration out on – "

"Shut up Quatre!"

"Take it easy Duo. If it makes you feel better, I'll pay for the speeding ticket…"

"The hell you will!" Duo snapped. "It's my goddamn speeding ticket and I'm gonna pay it!"

Noin gave up all pretense of not laughing.

"He's just trying to be nice, Duo," Hildie admonished.

"Yeah, whatever," Duo said darkly under his breath.

Noin took one look at Quatre's injured expression and Duo's scowling-pout and laughed harder.

"I'm glad _someone_'s getting some entertainment out of this," Duo remarked sourly.

"Duo…" Noin began.

"Yeah. Some kind of dramatic irony – Gundam pilots getting speeding tickets. If I were someone else, I'd never let me live it down," he remarked with a half-grin. "Speaking of which," Duo continued, rubbing the back of his neck, "you guys don't _really_ have to tell Heero about this…"

Quatre smiled and nodded understandingly, Noin laughed, and Hildie's eyes narrowed. "How much is it worth to you?"

"You too, Hildie?" Duo asked, sounding tragic.

"Aw, don't worry Duo. I'll save it for some time when I _really_ need to blackmail you."

"And _that's_ supposed to make me not worry?" Duo wanted to know.

"Here – Noin, I can get that…" Quatre interupted as Noin started to unload her luggage from the car they were all standing beside.

"No, it's fine Quatre. You could grab the duffel bag if you want…"

Duo, putting the speeding ticket in his pocket and picking up Noin's carry-on, shook his head. "Relena's gonna be wondering where we are."

"Do you think Relena will mind if I use the comm system to let Zechs know I've arrived?" Noin wanted to know, hefting the suitcase over the curb.

"Nah, she won't mind. She calls Zechs all the time…"

"You _walked out_ of the office?!?!" Relena asked incredulously.

"I'm sorry Relena," Zechs repeated for the umpteenth time. "The woman offended me." He didn't see why they had to discuss this with the two Gundam Pilots in the room…

Trowa, silent as usual, sat unobtrusively drinking his coffee while Heero watched Relena as she stood in front of the screen.

"Milliardo, (flinch) how can you expect to – "

"Please, Relena," Zechs interupted, rubbing his temples.

"Are you _certain_ you don't want me to tell Noin about this?" she asked anxiously.

"Tell me about what?" Noin asked, smile disappearing as she pushed the door open and pulled her suitcase through.

"Hi Noin," Relena greeted, biting her lip.

"Hello Miss Relena. Hi Heero, Trowa…"

"You're late," Heero remarked as Duo entered the room. "Which surprises me, the way you drive."

Duo silenced Quatre's quiet chuckle with a glare as Hildie grinned. "How can you _say_ that, Heero? Duo's such a _good_ driver."

"It's never healthy to lie to yourself Hildie," Heero told her, _almost_ smiling.

Duo growled something unintelligible as Noin deposited her suitcase and went to join Relena at the comm screen.

"I'm glad to see you're safe Noin," Zechs told her warmly, seizing the oppurtunity to change the subject.

"A shuttle trip isn't _all_ that perilous," Noin retorted. "Now, what isn't Relena telling me?"

"It's nothing to worry about," Zechs said, not making eye contact.

"That just isn't true," Relena denied, shaking her head.

"Well, why don't you tell me what it _is_, then I can decide whether or not I need to worry about it?" Noin suggested, crossing her arms.

Zechs' glance flickered to the room full of unnaturally quiet Gundam pilots (and Hildie). "Not now Noin. We can discuss it later. And in the meantime, promise me you won't badger Relena until she tells you."

"Have it your way," Noin sighed in exasperation.

"Thank you, I intend to. Out…"

_I miss you. I'm sorry I left you… _Her unspoken words lay in her throat as Zechs' face faded and she reminded herself of how annoyed she was with that man…

Relena walked over to the couch and sat down next to Heero, who laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Heero…"

"Relena."

"Cut it out, you two," Trowa murmured under his breath as he edged away from them on the couch.

"I'm so worried about him," Relena said softly.

"Looks like he pulled the promise out of the wrong one of us," Noin remarked, trying to smile.

"Don't worry too much Relena," Heero comforted. "Zechs is a pretty strong guy," he added, the corner of his mouth quirking into a smile.

"I wish he would talk to me," she murmured.

"Zechs is a very private person, Relena," Noin told her, still looking at the screen. "It's hard for him to open up like this. Just give him time."

Relena smiled at her. If anyone had a right to lecture about patience, Noin did.

"Thanks for coming, Noin," she said, getting to her feet and catching Heero's hand in her own as it slid off her shoulder. 

Duo gave Heero a very pointed look and began to laugh.

Heero turned red, let go of Relena's hand, and leaned back against the couch.

"You're welcome Relena," Noin answered, grinning at the boys. "Anytime."

"Isn't Wufei coming?" Quatre wanted to know.

"I think so… Sally was trying to talk him into it, but if all else fails, Lady Une can order him to come."

"Wufei taking orders… somehow I don't see it," Trowa commented with half a smile, putting his empty coffee cup on its saucer.

"Neither does Lady Une, very often," Relena laughed.

"Doesn't disobedience in a subordiate lack integrity?" Duo inquired innocently.

"That's not fair, Duo," Quatre said, trying very hard not to laugh. "You wouldn't say that to his face."

"Damn straight," Duo retorted.

"So when do you think he'll decide to grace us with his presence?" Heero asked idly.

"I don't know," Relena shrugged. "Soon, I hope."

"I can only stay these few days," Trowa interjected. "I'm missing enough of my classes as it is."

"What are you studying, Trowa?" Noin asked, blinking.

"Biology."

"Are you still planning to go to veterinary school?" Quatre prompted.

"That's right," Trowa nodded. That way, if he and his sister decided to stay with the circus, he'd be useful. And if Catherine wanted to move on, he'd have a profession that didn't involve having knives thrown at him. Besides, he understood animals… and they understood him.

"One of my sisters is a veterinarian," Quatre contributed thoughtfully. "Two of them, actually…"

"Quatre, I think you have at least _one_ sister in every profession," Duo stated (with a troubling degree of accuracy).

"No, none of them are –"

"Nevermind," Duo interupted, sounding tired.


	3. 

The delegates filed out of the auditorium, eager to seek out their respective lunches. Noin, pleased that her presentation had gone well, and _also_ that it was over, took a deep breath and started gathering her notes from the podium.

Someone cleared his throat, and Noin looked up to see a young man making his way through the aisles of seats.

"Can I help you?" she asked, straightening her papers and smiling pleasantly.

"I think so. You're Miss Lucrezia Noin?"

"Yes," she nodded, pushing the notes into her bag and stepping off the dais. Relena and the others would be impatient to start lunch. She was supposed to meet them five minutes ago…

"That's…formerly Lt. Lucrezia Noin of Oz?" he inquired, continuing forward with his hands plunged deeply into the pockets of his jacket.

"That's right," she told him, a little impatiently. What was he getting at?

"Also Instructor Noin of the Lake Victoria Base?" He paused a few steps in front of her.

"Yes. What can I –"

"I just wanted to make sure there was no mistake," he told her. Seconds later, Noin was blinking down the barrel of a pistol. "I…I've come to execute you for your war crimes." He steadied his violently trembling right hand with his left.

If he hadn't been pointing a gun at her, Noin would have laughed in his face. "My… my _what_?!?!"

"The crimes of the students are the crimes of the teacher," he asserted, not looking at her.

Noin sighed. "You're talking about Alex and Mueller, aren't you?" she predicted, sitting down on the stairs.

"You…you remember them?" he sounded surprised in spite of himself.

"Yes. Very well, actually. They were cadets my first semester of teaching." That had been hard– she'd had a few students older than herself, and earning their respect had been a challenge. "They…they were good boys when I knew them," Noin said softly, wrapping her arms around herself.

This last statement seemed to strengthen his purpose. "Good boys?! Those good boys of yours were the maniacs who destroyed the Alliance's Mogadishu Base! They surrendered, but your _good boys_ killed them anyway." His hands shook more than they had been before, and he took a moment to compose himself. This was obviously some kind of personal grudge. Noin wondered – had he been there himself? Or was this for his father, or a brother, or a friend… "An execution, they called it," he continued, voice thick with emotion. "Well, that's what this is -"

"Zechs held me responsible too," Noin interupted. "He told me… what a mistake it was to teach mere technique." Noin propped her elbow on her knee and rested her forehead in the palm of her right hand. She remembered boasting to Zechs that her students wouldn't fall in battle. That they wouldn't overdo things…"I tried to teach them more. I tried to teach them about honor and compassion and –"

"Apparently they didn't excel in those subjects," he retorted, starting to squeeze the trigger.

"No," Noin said, not looking up. "I guess not. And there were other teachers in Oz who must have found them more able in other subjects…"

"So you're laying the blame on someone else?" he demanded angrily.

"The only people responsible for the actions of Alex and Mueller are Alex and Mueller," Noin told him calmly.

"No. You taught them how to pilot the mobile suits. If you hadn't taught them –"

"Someone else would have," Noin finished.

His eyes narrowed. "But _you_ did. So it's your life for the hundreds they took."

"That doesn't make sense," Noin answered, finally looking up to see the man with the gun pointed at her fall into a heap on the floor.

Wufei was standing behind him.

"You should pay more attention, woman," he told her, taking the pistol out the fallen man's limp grasp.

Noin smiled. "Wufei Chang, you are the _last_ person on this planet I want to owe my life to-," she started.

"You're welcome," he interupted. "And you _do_ owe me."

Noin stood as Wufei started to drag the unconscious man out of the auditorium. "To be _that_ calm while someone was trying to kill you…" He shook his head. "You must not be quite as weak as I thought you were," he admitted grudgingly. "Either that, or you're just not as intelligent."

Taking the compliment and ignoring the insult, Noin stooped to pick up her bag, and it took her a moment to realize that she was shaking. Wufei gave her a scornful look.

"I'll file an incident report and take care of your friend here. You go find Relena," he ordered briskly.

"But...I don't think he deserves to go to prison…" Noin argued, ignoring her trembling hands.

"Get a hold of yourself, woman," Wufei said scathingly, still dragging the unconscious gunman.

"No, I mean it. He was just –"

"Noin," Wufei interupted, using her name for probably the first time in his life, "he was going to kill you."

That was a genuinely frightening thought.

It wasn't that no one else had tried to kill her before – Wufei here had even made some efforts towards that end at one point in time. But…this was somehow more personal. It wasn't as though she'd been that man's enemy that he'd have to defeat to stay alive – it was that he'd decided that Lucrezia Noin didn't deserve to live anyone.

No wonder she was shaking.

"Go," Wufei ordered impatiently. "I'll let Relena deal with you," he muttered.

Noin went. Although, to be honest, Relena wasn't the sibling she wanted to see right now…

"Noin! There you are!" Relena exclaimed in relief as Noin entered the restaurant and approached their table. "What kept you?"

"Hey," Duo interupted, "where's Wufei? Didn't he find you?"

"Yes," Noin responded. "He…I…."

"Miss Noin, you look terrible," Quatre said standing up. "Are you okay?"

"Not …really," she answered, collapsing into an empty chair, and putting her head in her hands for a moment.

"Noin…" Relena began, putting her hand on Noin's shoulder. "What's the matter?"

Noin looked up and took a deep breath. "I'm fine. I…"

"Some idiot tried to shoot her," Wufei supplied, from where he'd arrived silently in the doorway. "You walk slow, woman," he told Noin.

"What?!" Relena demanded.

"I said that she wal-"

"No!" Relena interupted angrily. "What's going on? Who tried to-"

"Almost two years ago, two Oz pilots who'd been my students at Victoria completely destroyed an Alliance base. I…guess this guy blamed me," Noin explained calmly, hands shaking a _little_ less noticeably.

"Oh Noin," Relena said compassionately, hugging her, "that's awful."

"It was fairly awful, yes. But I'm fine. Calm down," she said, amused by the fact that _she_ was comforting Relena.

"You made the headlines," Zechs told Relena dryly, tossing the newspaper onto the desk.

His sister's expression suddenly grew stricken. "But…I…how did they…" she stuttered, looking bewildered.

"The conference…it's in the newspaper…" Zechs held up the article with a picture of Relena standing at a podium.

Relena let out a breath of relief. "Oh, _that_."

Zechs was suddenly no longer distracted by the sound of coffee dripping into the pot. "Relena," he began, leaning closer to the screen, "what's the matter? You looked downright panicked."

"I…wanted to tell you a little more gently, but…" Relena looked down at her folded hands.

"Relena, you're starting to scare me," he told her, making an attempt at a smile.

Relena looked up and made eye contact. "Milliardo, some...someone pulled a gun on Noin yesterday, right after her presentation," she blurted.

"Wh – what? My God…is she all right?" Zechs stuttered numbly.

"She's fine. She was late for lunch, so we sent Wufei to find her, and –"

"Where is she?" he pressed, ignoring her.

"It's 2:30 am, Milliardo," Relena replied, patience sounding a little strained. "I imagine she's asleep."

Sleep – that was right. "Why are you up?" Zechs asked, blinking at the clock. He hadn't realized what time it was…

"I had a late seminar, and I wanted to talk to you."

"But…Noin is okay? You're sure?"

"She was just a little shaken. Well, _more_ than a little shaken." Relena admitted. "Milliardo, I think it would mean a lot if you…" she began hesistantly.

"I'll be on the next shuttle," he agreed.


	4. 

"You see, I'm terrified of air travel, even, so you can imagine how I feel about this," the dark-haired girl in the aisle seat next to Zechs was babbling incoherently. He had to wonder who let her travel alone if she was this incapacitated with fear. She was only about Relena's age. "So," she continued, fingers drumming madly on the armrest, eyes too bright, "Have you ever travelled in space before? I never have, but I know a _lot_ of people do, and-"

"I have. A number of times," he answered.

"Oh, well, that's really impressive. Do you take a lot of business trips or have family off colony, or-"

"My sister's on Earth," Zechs replied, taking the easy way out of the question.

"Oh, so are you just going to visit, or is there-"

"That's right," he interupted, wondering if he'd survive the 22 hour journey. At least he wouldn't have to worry about falling asleep.

"It's moving! I can't watch!" the girl informed him, clapping her hands over her eyes and resolutely turning into the aisle. "What does your sister do?" she wanted to know, slowly lowering her hands, but still not looking at him

"She's in politics," Zechs responded.

"Really? Well, it's a small solar system, isn't it? I'm going to Earth to work as a translator for the Foreign Ministry…"

Zechs smiled. "You might be working with my sister then. That's her department."

"What's her name?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder at him.

Zechs debated - chances were, if he told her Relena's name, she'd be too surprised to talk to him anymore - or maybe too scared. On the other hand, the last thing this poor little thing needed was more to be afraid of. So he'd ignore the question…

"A translator? What are your languages?"

"English, Japanese, Italian, French, German, Chinese.." she recited, leaning her head against the back of her seat.

"That's an impressive number. You're fluent in all of them?"

"Uh huh... I'm learning Russian and Spanish..." her incessant chatter had fallen off, and as the shuttle started to pick up speed on the runway, she was looking a bit ill.

"Hey - are you all right?" he asked.

"No," she squeaked.

"Don't worry," Zechs told her kindly. "Getting through the atmosphere is the worst part, and even that isn't that bad. And you have 22 hours to get ready for it."

"Or dread it," she whispered.

"Most people think the zero-gravity is fun. People hardly ever get sick..."

"Har...hardly ever?" she stuttered, as the docking bay doors opened. She suddenly reached for her bag. "I...I have...prescription...sedatives...." she gasped, shuffling through her belongings. She extracted an amber-colored bottle half-full of white tablets. Fumbling with the child-proof white lid, the girl ended up handing the bottle to Zechs to open for her, pills rattling as her hand shook.

"Two tablets, six hours between doses, with plenty of water?" Zechs confirmed, glancing at the label.

"I…I need to sleep _now_!" she explained, twitching. "How about four?" she wheedled.

"I don't think so. Stewardess…" he called to the passing flight attendant, "could I get some water please?"

"Certainly sir. I'll be right with you."

"But…I…"the girl stammered – the shuttle had nearly reached the doors, and beyond them, the stars shone brilliantly, "I don't want to be conscious!" she wailed.

"Space is beautiful. You don't want to miss it entirely."

Something in the girl – her self-restraint, perhaps - snapped. "The Hell I don't, now gimme the damn pills!" she ranted.

"Please calm down," Zechs told her gently.

"I will not calm down! You don't seem to understand what I'm _going_ through here," she accused, her expression settling somewhere between a glare and a pout.

At least when she was angry, she wasn't twitching.

"Yes,…I do," Zechs replied, not looking up. He knew what it felt like to be so unreasoningly afraid that your soul seemed to want to claw its way out of your body… To have every instinct screaming at you to run – and be trapped – enclosed within the confines of a cockpit, your hands slippery with sweat on the controls…

"Here's your water, sir," the stewardess said, smiling at the handsome young man with long blonde hair.

"Thank you very much," he answered politely, taking the styrofoam cup.

"Enjoy your trip," she concluded, continuing down the aisle.

Zechs popped the lid off of the bottle of sedatives and tapped two into the girl's expectant hands. She took the cup of water, barely avoiding spilling it all over him, and paused with it half way to her mouth.

"Please…just…this once?" she ventured, giving it one last try.

"No."

With one last poisonous glare, she downed both pills in one gulp.

Seconds later, whatever water had been left in the cup was now soaking into Zechs' sweater.

"Oh, I'm _so _sorry. My hand slipped. The…turbulence?"

"We're in space," Zechs pointed out, voice flat.

She squeaked again, grabbing her armrests. "_Why_ did you have to remind me of that?" she demanded quietly.

"I'm sorry," Zechs sighed, pulling the wet sweater away from his skin.

"Should be," she muttered, yanking an enormous book out of her bag and settling resolutely into her seat with it, waiting for her drugs to take effect.

Zechs laid his head back against his seat, closing his eyes. He wasn't tired…not really. He'd had coffee at the spaceport…and…before that. His life seemed to stretch out behind him in an endless stream of empty coffee cups. When was the last time he'd slept eight consecutive hours? Last week? Perhaps two weeks ago? To be painfully honest with himself, he was almost afraid to sleep… At this point, relaxing enough _to_ fall asleep would take a supreme act of will. Then again…

Zechs woke with a start, breathing hard. Sitting up straighter, he rubbed his eyes and glanced to his left at the girl, who had her seat reclined and was curled up on her side in the fetal position. Most of the other passengers were asleep as well – here and there the soft dimness was broken by the glow of a reading light, and somewhere farther up the aisle, childish voices were whispering. The stewardess floated past, propelling herself forward on the bars connected to the overhead compartments. Zechs turned his head to stare out of his window at the stars. With no point of reference, it was hard to tell that the shuttle was moving at all.

The images of his dream were fleeing like shadows from the first light of dawn, and Zechs let them go. Lately, the less he remembered of them, the better. Something had scared him pretty thoroughly, though.

"You never told me your sister's name," a quiet voice stated thoughtfully. "You never told me your name, either."

"It's not as though you've told me yours," he pointed out. She snorted. Zechs turned back to face her. "But, my sister's name is Relena Da-"

"That's a pretty name," she interupted drowsily.

He glanced at the digital clock mounted under the overhead compartments several seats up. "It's been over six hours, now…" he told her.

"Good…knock me out again before I wake up the rest of the way, _please_," she begged. "Oh, and incidentally - if you don't mind my asking," the girl began slowly while they were waiting for the stewardess to return with more water, sounding much more awake than she had a moment ago, "why should you care if some neurotic stranger in the seat next to you overdoses on tranquilizers?"

"Why shouldn't I?"

She shrugged. "I guess I'm just used to people minding their own business."

"It would be a terrible thing, to die because of a foolish mistake." Zechs replied after a moment.

The girl looked down at her hands. "Thank you then. For not minding your own business."

"There's no shame in it Hildie," Duo gloated. "After all, I _am –_"

"Just…just shove it Duo," Hildie interupted, dropping the controls in disgust. "It's just a waste of time anyway."

"That's not true at all. It's a way to hone your instincts and –"

"Fry your brain?" Heero suggested. Duo didn't seem to be able to finish a sentence today.

"Hey, that hasn't been proven!" Duo retorted indignantly. "Come on Hildie, best out of three?" Duo pleaded, offering the video game controls back to her.

"No way," she denied, standing from her cross-legged position on the floor and sitting next to Quatre on the couch. "I've embarassed myself enough for one day, thank you all the same."

Duo surveyed the rest of the occupants of the rec-room in Relena's house. It beat him why she had the video game system – he had a hard time picturing her using it, and somehow he doubted you'd be likely to find Heero "frying his brain" on it when he visited her… But then, Relena was just thoughtful enough to have it there for their use while they were visiting. Their next seminar wasn't until that afternoon, and they were all killing time until Relena and Noin got back from picking up Zechs at the spaceport. That is… _he_ was killing time. Wufei wasn't around – he was probably off meditating somewhere, Trowa was buried in an enormous textbook, Quatre was sitting with his laptop on his lap, finishing his speech and sending messages to his sisters, Heero was reading, and Hildie _had_ been his opponent in the racing game…

"Why are you embarassed?" Quatre was asking her, not looking up from his computer screen. "I mean, it's just a game."

"Well, you wouldn't know that, the way Duo acts about it," she teased, winking at Duo.

"Whaddaya say, Trowa? Bet you can't beat me either," Duo challenged, holding out the controller.

"Hm. Well, whether I could or not, I have to do this…" he answered, not looking up from his homework.

He was _bored!_

"Come on Quatre, how about a friendly game?"

"Well, maybe after I finish this…" Quatre put him off, keys clicking out a quick staccato under his deft fingers.

Duo's shoulders slumped, and Hildie grinned smugly at him.

"I won't even bother asking Heero," Duo began, smirking.

"Good," Heero interjected, turning a page.

"…'cause I _know_ he'd be too ashamed to lose to me," Duo concluded.

Heero looked up from his book.

"Lose?"

"Hey…hey, wake up, we landed." Zechs tapped the girl on the shoulder.

"Wha…it…it's over?" she responded groggily, closing her unread book and rubbing at her eyes.

"That's right. It's time to get off the shuttle," he told her, standing and helping her to her feet.

Gathering their bags, the passengers started filing towards the exit. With the girl stumbling down the ramp behind him, Zechs scanned the terminal for familiar faces - Relena was waving and grinning from not far away.

The girl stopped in her tracks and blinked repeatedly. "The Vice Foreign Minister is waving at you, I think," She pointed out helpfully to Zechs. "Why is that, would you say?"

"That's Relena, my sister," he told her, readjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder.

"Oh. Of course." She blinked again. She opened her mouth, then closed it. "But," she continued after a pause, "if Relena Darlian is your sister, then…" It had apparently just then dawned on her that the man she'd been sitting next to on the shuttle for the past day or so was Milliardo Peacecraft…

In the meantime, Relena had fought her way through the crowd and was hugging her brother, whom she hadn't seen for months. "Oh Milliardo," she said, not noticing him flinch, "I'm so glad you came."

"It's good to see you," he told her with a half smile as she pulled away. "Relena, I met one of your new translators on the shuttle," he said, aware of the still-dumbstruck girl behind him. "Miss…" he began politely.

"Zeyne," the girl supplied, shaking the hand Relena offered. "Margaret Zeyne. Meg, usually," she added, a little shyly.

"Nice to meet you Miss Zeyne. You're going to be working for the Ministry?" Relena wanted to know, walking away from the ramp with Meg and Zechs.

"That's right," she answered, nodding.

"Well, if you'd like to get an early start, we're going straight to the conference from the spaceport. Would you like to come with us?"  
Meg hesitated. "Thank you very much, but I… it's been a long trip, and I'd like to go to my hotel and get some rest and –"

"You just slept for 22 hours straight," Zechs pointed out, amused.

She didn't bother to respond to that. "Thank you again…"

"You're welcome, of course. I'm sure I'll see you soon," Relena told her pleasantly, beckoning through the crowd to Noin, who'd gotten stuck behind a slow-moving old woman with a very large trunk.

"I'm glad to have met you," Meg replied, making her way towards the baggage claim. She glanced back at Zechs, who was standing in front of the tall, pretty, dark-haired young woman, and reflected with some disgust that the nice, good-looking ones were always taken.

Seconds later she was incredulous that she'd just categorized _Milliardo Peacecraft_ as a "nice, good-looking one" and began wondering just what was in those sedatives anyway…

Noin was having a hard time resisting the overwhelming and slightly ridiculous urge to salute.

"Noin," Zechs began, taking her hand in something that wasn't quite a handshake, and pulling her a little closer, "I'm so grateful you're safe."

With half a smile, Noin mused that she'd heard him say something like that before. However, her quick retort – "You're just saying that 'cause if I died I'd get a two rank promotion"- didn't apply anymore. In fact, it was kind of distressing…

"Me too," she told him, smiling a little more genuinely.


	5. 

"See, Duo, I _told_ you we wouldn't miss your speech," Relena whispered, smiling, as she slid into the seat next to Heero, followed by Zechs, Noin, and finally Quatre, who'd rather thoughtfully given up his seat for Relena.

"Well, you're cutting it pretty close, aren't you?" he replied, winking.

Relena shrugged. "Traffic," she explained innocently.

"This guy is _bound_ to be finished soon," Wufei predicted. "And if he doesn't run out of things to say, his vocal chords will eventually give out."

"You're exaggerating," Noin scoffed.

"He isn't," Trowa interjected.

Despite Wufei's dire implications, the speaker soon wrapped up his presentation, and left the stage.

Hildie squeezed Duo's hand just before he stood – the last of the five boys scheduled to speak that day– and made his way up to the podium.

The most he'd conceded to dress up for the occasion was his usual black clothes with the white collar – he just hadn't rolled his sleeves up and was wearing a pair of Quatre's highly polished dress shoes. The microphone squeaked a little as he adjusted it. 

"I… didn't actually spend too much time on this speech," Duo confided to the auditorium full of strangers with one row of friends in the front. "If there's one thing I'm good at, it's talking. And besides, I was too busy beating my buddy at video games," he continued, grinning at Heero, whose intense expression lifted for a moment to be replaced by what might have been a smile. "But… isn't that how it ought to be? I'm 16 years old, you see. I _should_ be wasting time with my friends, shouldn't I? I haven't had much time to waste before now," Duo told them, looking down. "War has pretty much screwed up my childhood. I'm trying to make up for that. We all are." He looked at each of the former Gundam pilots. 

"Heero's gonna be an engineer. I hope he doesn't swipe parts like he used to." Heero snorted at that – it _might_ have been a laugh, but Duo seriously doubted it. Relena, smiling encouragingly at him, put her hand at Heero's elbow. "Trowa's studying to be a veteranarian, Quatre's got the family business to take care of, and Wufei works for the Preventers. So I guess that leaves me."

Duo took a deep breath and unconsciously began pushing his sleeves up to his elbows, making Hildie smile. "How do people decide what they're gonna do with their lives, anyway? Most people, I guess, figure out what they're good at – what they _like_ doing, and see if they can make a career of it. Well, I know what I'm good at," he said darkly, then grinning suddenly, he added, "other than talking or video games, I mean." A ripple of laughter ran through the audience. "But what I'm good at… and what a lot of people have had a lot of practice with up until a little while ago… is something none of us want to ever have to face again."

The audience had fallen silent, their laughter of moments before forgotten.

"War has made some kind of ugly wound on each of our lives. And there are things that are always going to make us go through those painful memories. But another thing I learned as a Gundam pilot, was that if you just ignore an injury, it isn't going to go away. It's gonna get uglier. All of us need to deal with our emotional wounds just like we would physical ones. We can't pretend they're not there and hope they'll go away once we've forgotten about them, because it's not going to happen." Duo broke his eye contact with the audience, and dropped his voice. "I know… I know the memories hurt. And I know that they'll hurt worse if we have to look at things like Mobile Suits again. But… it's technology we need, and it doesn't _have_ to be a weapon. Once we've cleaned out the wound, and given it time to heal, we have to learn to use that limb again."

Duo spent a moment looking intently at his silent listeners, and then quietly left the podium. After a stunned moment, applause rang out as he made his way back to his seat. Hildie was standing, as were the rest of the people in that row. (Duo kind of got the impression that the only reason Wufei stood up was because he'd look like an idiot if he was the only one sitting down, but, wisely, didn't comment.)

"Duo, I'm so proud of you," Hildie told him, hugging him quickly and making him blush.

"So you um… couldn't tell I was making it up as I went along?" he wanted to know, sounding self-conscious.

"No, no, it was…powerful. It was," she assured him.

Heero gave Duo an extremely pointed look as Hildie hugged him again, then took Relena's hand. He either failed to notice or chose to ignore Zechs' raised eyebrow and rather stern expression.

Zechs was really beginning to wish Quatre had just stayed put and not messed with the seating arrangements. It was unsettling enough to have to sit beside your little sister while she held hands with some boy, but it didn't help when that boy was a stone-faced soldier-from-birth like Heero. It wasn't that he didn't _trust_ Relena, it was more as if… he didn't trust _Heero_. It just made him uncomfortable. He had to laugh at himself, being so parental, but… he remembered rocking her to sleep and drying her tears. He'd been looking out for Relena from a distance for years, and now that he could do so in person… 

"This is probably not the best thing after being on a shuttle for twenty-two hours," Noin commented.

"Don't think I can stay awake?" Zechs asked, amused.

"With these speakers… I don't think _I_ can stay awake sometimes, and I don't have anything like your excuse. I give you about twenty minutes," she stated, crossing her arms. 

He smiled, and settled back into his seat. After a failed attempt to listen to the new speaker, he found his thoughts wandering. Much against his will, he seemed to be dwelling on the dream he'd had on the shuttle. How long had it been since he'd dreamt about his parents?

"Fortune will always smile on you, my little Milliardo."

He remembered his mother's affectionate smile, and her beautiful delicate hands rufflling through his touseled silver-blonde hair.

In some bizzare, twisted way, it had. His entire family, save Relena, had been massacred, but he'd survived. As a soldier, how many times _should_ he have been killed in battle? How many of his friends… Even when he _wanted _to die, he somehow couldn't manage it. When Treize decided on his death and set the remnants of the Alliance on him, he'd pressed and surpassed his own limits and the limits of his Tallgeese. He'd collapsed – to die, perhaps – and woken up on Howard's ship, not dead in the least. To save an enemy's life, he'd driven Epyon's beam sabre to it's hilt into Libra's [reactor?]. But Gundanium alloy always seemed to surprise him with its tenacity. Epyon's cockpit refused to yield its pilot. Floating amid the wreckage, Zechs, or Milliardo, or whomever he was, realized that as much as the Zero system had tormented his soul, Treize had saved his life with his Gundam design…

But for how long? That little piece of the Epyon that had cradled and shielded him from the blast might now become his coffin. But he had been meant to die before.

The same luck that'd preserved him from death countless times – that same, fixed "smile of fortune" had brought the salvage ships to what might have been his grave. He was one of innumberable pilots of derelict Mobile suits pulled from the wreckage in the aftermath of that "final battle" as Dorothy called it. No one asked his name or examined his features too closely – the medics merely tended injuries and told the pilots how lucky they were to be alive.

Luck, was it? Indeed, was it luck that prevented an honorable, perhaps even noble end after all the atrocites he'd commited? Destiny perhaps, had made a pet project of Milliardo Peacecraft, although he did not suppose she smiled on him.

His life had been a hard one – a warrior's life. It was not the life his parents would have chosen for him, nor was it even the life he'd have chosen for himself. But it had made him the person he was. And that person was the brother Relena adored, the opponent a young man named Heero Yuy respected, and…

Zechs started from his half-conscious musings to the sound of surrounding applause in the darkened auditorium. A weight lifted abruptly from his right shoulder and he glanced over to see Relena rubbing at her eyes. Seconds later, Noin jerked awake, blinking rapidly.

"You know, I don't think I heard a word that speaker said," Relena murmured, yawning.

"You didn't miss much," Heero told her, his arms crossed as he tried to resist the urge to yawn himself.

"What time is it?" Relena asked quietly.

Zechs glanced at his watch, then grimaced. "Sorry, I'm still in colony time."

"I have 7:43," Quatre interjected.

"And we haven't had a break for dinner yet?" Duo moaned quietly, careful not to wake Hildie, who was still asleep on his shoulder. "This is torture!"

"Well, I'm fairly hungry myself," Relena admitted.

"Miss Relena, you _do_ realize you can call a recess when ever you feel it's necessary," Quatre suggested tactfully.

"You're right, of course. I think we could all use a break." Relena stood decisively and made her way out of the row of seats, careful not to wake Hildie or Trowa as she passed.

"It probably wasn't wise to keep them all this long," Wufei pointed out as she started into the aisle. Relena sighed. She'd _meant_ to call a recess at seven o'clock, she just… been more or less asleep for the past forty-five minutes or so…

"Duo, hold _still_!" Hildie scolded.

"Look, Hildie, I can…" here he paused to wince, "braid my own hair!"

"I know," she told him, happily sinking the stiff bristled brush into Duo's thick sheet of now wet chestnut hair. "I like doing it."

"Ow! Do you have to pull like that?"

"You're such a baby. I'm not hurting you, so keep still!"

"Hildie, I'd really rather do this myself," he told her, grimacing as she deftly seperated his wealth of dark hair into three thick strands.

"It'll go faster if I do it. Just deal, Duo."

Duo dejectedly settled himself more comfortably on the living room floor of Relena's apartment as Hildie continued to amuse herself with his hair. There was just no talking her out of these things. Because of the conference, all the hotels in the area of the capital were booked solid, so Hildie and Noin were staying with Relena, while Duo, Trowa, and Quatre had all piled into Heero's place. Zechs had been lucky enough to squeeze into a hotel under a cancellation, since he wouldn't have been very comfortable staying with his sister while she had other guests. Quatre's last name would probably have been enough to get him a room, but he was just too nice to override someone else's previous reservations. They spent most of each day at the conference, and any free time at Relena's place, so they basically crashed at night in Heero's living room – Duo had claimed the couch, Trowa the recliner, and Quatre had gotten the floor. But with so many people in one apartment with limited hot water, Duo had come over to use Relena's shower that morning… and ended up at the mercy of Hildie's brush and braiding skills.

He didn't mind so much. Hildie would do a nice, neat, tight job of it, but there was something kind of embarrasing about being unceremoniously sat down while someone did your hair. 

"What a charming picture," Heero commented dryly, coming through the door followed shortly by the entire entourage.

"One wonders how he manages when she isn't around," Wufei added.

"Watch it, buddy," Duo warned, eyes narrowing.

"No, Duo usually takes care of it himself," Hildie explained, hands not pausing in their rhythmic motion. "I just like to play with his hair every once in a while. It's so long and pretty…"

"So she braids your hair _and_ defends your honor. Do you always hide behind women?" Wufei asked Duo scathingly.

Hildie's hands stopped.

"Just ignore him," Duo advised. "If you respond, it just encourages him."

"Be quiet," Hildie told Wufei from between clenched teeth, glaring.

"Take your own advice, woman," he retorted, sounding bored.

"Don't talk to her like that!" Duo was on his feet in an instant.

"Come on guys, just settle down," Quatre said nervously, stepping between them.

Duo ignored this suggestion and continued to glare past Quatre, while Wufei, still disinterested, didn't seem to actually need to settle down.

Relena and Noin had wandered into the room. "Good morning, everyone," Relena said cheerfully, blinking at the peculiar scene that met her eyes.

"What's going on?" Noin wanted to know.

"Wufei was just apologizing," Duo said darkly.

"Don't make me laugh," Wufei commented, rolling his eyes.

"Oh, I don't think you'll laugh," Duo muttered, hands clenching into fists.

"Please… cut it out," Relena ventured.

"Stay out of it," Wufei sighed in exasperation.

"Watch your mouth," Heero said quickly, bristling.

"I don't care for your tone," Zechs told Wufei flatly.

"Quit while you're ahead," Trowa offered quietly.

"Forget it," Wufei muttered, irritated, as he jostled his way past Trowa and Zechs to leave again.

"That was unpleasant," Relena observed.

"_He_ is unpleasant," Hildie corrected, still fuming.

Noin felt compelled to defend the boy, even though he _had_ probably brought this on himself.

"I don't think he means it, entirely. It's just become a speech pattern to a certain extent. Under all his crap, he's not a bad kid," she offered.

"Right…" Duo replied, crossing his arms.

"Well, we should probably be on our way, shouldn't we?" Relena said uncomfortably.

"Yes," Zechs responded, stifling a yawn.

"Milliardo," Relena began, sounding maternal, "why don't you skip for today, until you've gotten used to the time difference?" Zechs laughed a little. Both of them seemed determined to be a parent as well as a sibling.

"That sounds like a good idea," he answered, yawning again. "I'll go back to the hotel…" _and either put myself through trying to sleep, or choke down a couple of pots of coffee,_ he added silently.

"No, stay here," Relena said quickly. "There's plenty of food in the fridge, and you can just make yourself at home."

"All right," he replied, "and thank you, Relena." She grinned. "Noin," he continued casually, "I've been meaning to discuss something with you. Would you mind staying for a while?"

Noin blinked. "No, I guess not. I should be preparing to give my presentation again tomorrow anyway. I'll probably show up after lunch, so Zechs can get some sleep," she told Relena.

"Okay then. Goodbye Milliardo, bye Noin," Relena called, waving as she followed Heero out the door.

"_Finally_ ready to go?" Wufei asked coldly, leaning against the wall outside the door.

No one bothered to answer that rhetorical question.

"Doesn't it make you feel a little odd?" Quatre asked Relena, gesturing back at the house as they made their way to the car. "I mean, I'm never quite comfortable around my sisters and their romantic interests, so…"

Relena shrugged. "I got to know Noin pretty well before I even found my brother again. And," she continued, smiling, "I like the idea of her being my sister someday."


	6. 

Well, that was interplanetary travel lag for you… A moment ago, Noin had been talking to Zechs, and he seemed to have nodded off midsentence. She felt a little silly just sitting there and watching him sleep.

But he was awfully beautiful when he was asleep.

He was pretty beautiful awake, too. There were lines around his eyes that disappeared when he slept, and he looked so peaceful and angelic. If he was that tired, she couldn't quite find it in her heart to wake him up just yet. His neck was going to hurt, slouched on the couch like that, but… for now…

Noin drew her feet up beneath her as she sat in the armchair. It seemed ridiculous, but she was fairly content, just sitting there watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest and listening to his steady breathing.

Not far from sleep herself, she sat up abruptly when Zechs' breathing changed sharply. It was shallow, and strained, and he was twitching slightly. The serenity of the atmosphere was gone, and with it, Noin's reluctance to wake him up. She stood and walked over to the couch. Laying a hand on his shoulder, she was surprised when he drew away from it sharply, his expression pained.

"Zechs, hey, wake up," she said, shaking him gently.

He woke suddenly, startling her as his hands gripped her arms just below the elbow. His breathing was slowing, but he was clinging to her like a child awoken from a nightmare. 

"Zechs, are you okay?" Noin asked, sitting beside him and helping him sit up straighter.

"I…I'm fine. It was…a dream," he said, more to himself than to her.

"You… don't look fine. Zechs…" 

"No, I'm all right," he assured her, voice firmer. He drew her nearer, and she was suddenly aware of the fact that the way he was holding her was no longer remotely childlike. Part of her would have liked nothing better than to be pulled closer still. But…

"Is… this what Relena wasn't supposed to discuss with me?" she wanted to know, pulling away and letting her hands slide into his.

"I've… been having rather disturbing dreams," he began.

"Reoccurring nightmares, maybe?" Noin suggested a bit shortly. "Well that would explain the fact that you've lost weight and started drinking excessive amounts of coffee in the past few weeks. How could you just _not tell me_?" she wanted to know, sounding a little hurt.

Well, Relena had been right about Noin noticing something, anyway. "It's my problem. I didn't want to worry you."

"I've worried more not knowing what's going on. Can you just… just assume that anything that hurts _you_ is my problem as well?" Noin said fiercely.

There were things… things that "hurt him," that by the grace of God, Noin would never have to know about.

"You don't know what you're saying," he told her, rather coldly, letting go of her hands and standing.

"Don't I?" she said hotly. 

"You don't. I have my problems, and you have yours. Someone tried to kill you two days ago," he stated, succeeding in changing the subject.

"It's not as if I went out of my way to conceal that from anyone," she retorted.

"I had to find out from Relena," he pointed out.

"I was fairly upset by the whole chain of events," Noin said, clenching her hands into fists so there was absolutely no chance they would shake. "By the time I was thinking anywhere near rationally, you were on a shuttle."

"I'm here now, and you haven't spoken of it at all."

"What is there to discuss?" she wanted to know, looking away.

"Something, apparently. It's obvious that it's still upsetting you," he answered, noticing how she had tensed when he brought the subject up.

"Shouldn't it?" she inquired curtly.

"Noin, I didn't mean _that_," he said, immediately regretting how cold he was being about this. "But I've seen you in battle. It's not as though your life has never been in danger before, and you've always been so calm."

She propped her elbow on her knee and rested her forehead on her palm. "It was different," she said quietly.

"I know it's always harder when it's face to face if you're accustomed to mobile suits," he began.

"No," she interupted, looking up. "That wasn't it. It was… so specific, so personal. I wasn't his enemy. He just…thought I deserved to die," she concluded, staring at her hand.

"You don't," he told her gently, sitting back down.

"I know that. But, in a way he was right," she said thoughtfully.

"Noin, what are you saying?" he demanded quietly, putting his hand on her shoulder.

"You said the same thing. What if it was something _I_ taught them? Or didn't teach them. _Was_ it my fault?"

"How can someone else's actions be your fault?"

"And yet, I'm responsible for what I taught them, aren't I?"

"Yes. But, not for how they… perverted it. It was frightening, Noin. They had no respect for anything or anyone – except Treize, and…you," he said, moving his hand to her cheek.

"And how is that supposed to make me feel?" she snapped, brushing his hand away.

"How does it?" he asked.

"Sick," she answered, leaning forward slightly, her hands tightening into fists once more.

"Noin…" he said softly, touching her face again and sliding his arm around her waist.

"When," Noin began, straightening and turning slightly to face him, expression amused as she regarded him through narrowed cobalt eyes behind a few strands of raven hair, "did you change the subject?"

Zechs woke from his heavy, dreamless sleep to the sound of the front door opening and a stream of people walking through.

"Hi, Milliardo," Relena greeted over her bag of groceries. "We thought we'd come back here for dinner."

Glancing out the window, he could see the warm hues of sunset painting the horizon. He must've slept longer than he'd thought. He rubbed his neck. "You're going to cook here?" he asked groggily.

Relena blushed, then grinned apologetically. "Not…_exactly_."

"We got take-out," Hildie explained, pausing on her way to the kitchen.

"Believe me," Heero told Zechs in a lowered voice, "you wouldn't want Relena to cook."

"Did you sleep well?" Noin wanted to know, turning the casual query into an interrogation.

"Yes," he responded absently, then catching her skeptical look, continued, "I honestly did."

Still not seeming entirely convinced, Noin followed the others into the kitchen. 

Duo, watching Zechs watch Noin, sat cross-legged on the living room floor.

"I'd tell you that you had lipstick on your collar," he began once Noin was out of earshot, "but somehow I don't think Noin wears any."

Zechs raised an eyebrow at him. "She doesn't," he replied with a straight face a moment later.

Duo laughed.

"Neither does Relena," Heero stated with a half-smile as he passed.

Zechs' hands clenched into fists almost subconsciously. The boy wasn't stupid, so why did he keep baiting him like this?

"Sally doesn't either," Wufei interjected.

Heero stopped in his tracks, and three pairs of blue eyes turned on Wufei.

He actually blushed.

"She doesn't,"he said defensively. "That doesn't mean that I…that…" He realized that his face was red and scowled. "You three sicken me," he snarled, stalking off to the dining room, where Quatre, Hildie, and Trowa were setting the table.

"Hi Wufei," Quatre greeted pleasantly, his hands full of silverware, "could you bring that chair in the corner over to the table?"

Hildie, who was folding napkins and placing them beside the plates Trowa had set down, finished her task quickly as she glared at Wufei and hurried back to the kitchen.

"What's with her?" Wufei wanted to know, rearranging the chairs.

Trowa snorted. "You really don't remember?"

"I think," Quatre ventured, "she's still pretty angry about this morning. I'm sure if you'd apologize…"

"For what?" Wufei demanded, partly indignant, and partly baffled.

"It's not even worth it," Trowa told Quatre, shaking his head as he walked into the living room with his hands in his pockets.

"What's for dinner?" Zechs wanted to know, cracking his back and making Noin wince as he make his way to the kitchen.

"Italian," Relena answered. "Mostly for the fun of watching Heero and Wufei trying to eat spaghetti with chopsticks," she admitted, laughing.

"You girls are terrible," Noin said, trying _not_ to laugh as she looked up from the sauce she was reheating on the stove.

"He deserves it," Hildie said, obviously not talking about Heero.

"You might as well let it go," Noin told Hildie. "He's _not_ going to apologize."

"He _should_," Hildie said fiercely.

"Regardless," Noin said, shaking her head, "that doesn't mean he will."

Hildie sighed, then looked up suddenly. "What's… that smell?"

Relena's eyes widened. "The breadsticks!" she gasped, diving for the oven. Wrenching the door open, she coughed as she despondently pulled the tray out with the oven mitt and surveyed the blackened strips. "Whoops…" she said softly.

Hildie coughed. It might've been the smoke, but she couldn't hide her grin.

"Am I hopeless?" Relena asked her, giggling.

"It's too soon to tell," Hildie replied with mock seriousness.

"It would be profoundly unnatural for a princess to have natural culinary abilities," Zechs told her affectionately, tugging on one of her braids. Relena smiled.

"What's burning?" Duo called from the living room. "And do we need to call the fire department?"

"Your share," Hildie answered cheerily, "And therefore, no."

"Burnt offerings to Shinigami aren't necessary," Duo retorted, feigning modesty.

"'Scuse me while I go strangle that boy with his braid…" Hildie said, heading for the doorway.

"Sorry," Noin told her, "non-princesses are direly needed in the kitchen. I'm _not_ doing this myself," she concluded, popping the plastic lid off of a container of meatballs and putting them into the sauce.

"I'll help," Zechs volunteered, "especially for the excellent cause of giving Mr. Maxwell a hard time."

Hildie grinned at him as she continued into the living room.

"Are princes that much of an improvement over princesses?" Noin asked skeptically.

Zechs shrugged. "I guess we'll find out."

Duo's "hard time" seemed to consist of a great deal of laughing.

"The god of death is ticklish," Heero informed Relena solemnly after he'd left Hildie to her task and joined the others in the kitchen.

Hildie, apparently, was too.

"Somehow," Noin stated, amused, as she glanced up from the stove, "I don't think Duo is exactly having a hard time. And if he is, he's enjoying it."

Duo and Hildie called a truce after a few minutes, and helped eachother to their feet. Hilde paused a few steps towards the kitchen to put her short hair into some semblance of order. Duo seemed unable to resist the temptation…

Her sides were unprotected, and he started tickling again.

"Duo! We had a _truce!_ Stop it!" she gasped out through her laughter, hurriedly getting out of reach. "You're so mean!"

"_I'm_ mean?" Duo repeated indignantly. "And just who started all this, may I ask?"

Hildie grinned. "Relena burnt the breadsticks," she contributed.

Duo laughed. "Don't go blaming the innocent for your own evil actions!" he told her, starting a fresh wave of vigorous tickling.

"If I'm evil, so are you," Hildie informed him indignantly.

"Nah. I'm just retaliating," Duo said coolly.

"There's a loaf of bread on the table. Would you mind slicing it in the absence of breadsticks?" Noin asked, handing Zechs a cutting board and smiling at Relena.

"I thought the idea of getting take out was that we wouldn't have to wait to eat," Trowa said, poking his head into the kitchen.

"If you make yourself useful, it won't be as long," Noin pointed out.

"All right," Trowa answered, coming the rest of the way into the kitchen. "What do you want me to do?"

"Put the salad and the spaghetti on the table," she suggested.

"Okay," he replied compliantly, lifting the large bowl of pasta from the counter.

"Thanks Trowa," she said, putting a ladle in the sauce and the empty saucepan into the sink.

As if drawn by some obscure instinct that informed them that dinner was ready, Duo and Hildie were seated quietly side by side at the table.


	7. 

"Vice Foreign Minister Darlian!"

Relena turned in response to the voice calling from across the courtyard, then turned back to allow herself to make a face.

"What's the matter?" Heero asked, almost laughing at her expression.

"I don't know if I can deal with that man at this hour," she said quietly.

"Miss Darlian!" "that man" persisted.

"Yes Minister Cekenet, what can I do for you?" she replied politely.

"I need to speak with you Miss Darlian. Do you have a moment?" a serious-looking, bespectacled man in his forties continued as he hurried to catch up with Relena and Heero.

"Certainly sir. What did you need to discuss with me?"

Pausing to catch his breath, he gave Heero a sidelong glance. "Er… being that this is a matter of state, I'd prefer that your friend…"

"No problem," Heero interupted in a less than friendly tone. "I'll meet the others, and we'll wait for you, all right Relena?"

"Thanks Heero," she answered, waving as he disappeared into the crowd of delegates. "How can I help you, Minister?" she continued to her associate.

"This is my first day at the conference, Miss Darlian," he began after a pause until Heero was out of earshot. "And I am shocked….even appalled at some of the delegates."

Relena blinked.

"Beg your pardon, sir?"

"_Known terrorists_… people of extremely questionable mental status…are giving presentations… are lecturing in auditoriums full of some of the most prominent leaders of the world and the colonies! I cannot understand how something like this could have happened!" he told her severely, shaking his head in disbelief.

Relena's eyes had gone flinty.

"Perhaps the minister's intolerant attitude is a result of the fact that he has yet to attend any of the seminars?" she suggested, her voice flat. "Mr. Winner is speaking this afternoon. I imagine his presentation might allay some of your fears," she continued, biting back the term "paranoid delusions."

"I have no desire to listen to the ravings of a young berserker who has only avoided an institution due to his family's wealth and prominence," he assured her evenly. "Or to put myself in the way of a young man who has repeatedly exhibited suicidal tendencies. I cannot approve of your close association with such people, Miss Darlian. It doesn't reflect well on you personally, and frankly, it doesn't reflect well on the government. Terrorists are criminals whether they are being punished for their crimes or not."

"Mr. Cekenet," Relena began, voice barely controlled, "this week, someone took it upon themselves to punish someone they percieved as a 'criminal.' I find such terminology coming from another member of the government _very_ distressing."

"Yes, I read about the incident with the former Oz officer. It gives me reason to doubt our security, undeniably. But tell me, Miss Darlian, how that young man differed from your dear friends, the former Gundam pilots, or even your brother, whom I understand is also now in attendance?" He raised his eyebrows, certain she would be unable to reply.

"The Gundam pilots were _not_ vengeful," she answered quietly. "And as much as they tried to act on what they believed to be right, they were being almost constantly manipulated. How much do you know about the Zero system, sir?"she demanded.

"I'm a politician, not an engineer," he scoffed.

"Regardless, there are things everyone should understand," Relena replied, shaking her head.

"Miss Relena!" Quatre called from the doorway of the conference room she'd been headed towards.

"Relena, they're waiting for you to give the address!" Noin elaborated.

"I'll be there in a minute," she called back. Quatre was already hurrying over.

"Sorry to steal Miss Darlian, sir, but the delegates are all anxious to begin. It's a little behind schedule as it is…" he explained pleasantly.

"We'll finish this discussion later, Miss Darlian. Sorry for the inconvenience, Mr…" Mr. Cekenet began, extending a hand to shake with the polite young man who'd come to fetch the Vice Foreign Minister.

"Winner. Quatre Winner."

Quatre blinked as the politician pulled his hand back as if burned and muttered something about being late as he hurried away. Quatre cocked his blonde head.

"What did I say?" he asked Relena.

"Nothing, Quatre. Don't worry about it," she told him, letting out an exasperated sigh.

"Are…you ready to go, Miss Relena?" Quatre said, obediently dropping the subject, although she could see in his eyes that it was still troubling him.

"Of course." They walked back over to the conference room in silence. Once there, Relena hurried up to the podium, while Quatre paused by the door, where Noin was still standing.

"He wouldn't shake my hand," Quatre said softly, sounding a little hurt, but mostly baffled. "It's not as though bloodstains rub off," he added, unable to keep the sadness out of his quiet laugh as he looked at his long-fingered hands.

Relena was giving her brief address quickly, as though preoccupied.

"That's horrible! You're hard enough on yourself as it is, Quatre," Noin replied, keeping her indignation quiet, so as not to distract those seated from Relena's speech. Relena herself seemed sufficiently distracted for all of them.

"Not really," Quatre said, trying to smile. "I could never be hard _enough_ on myself about it. But… even so, there's never a day that passes that I don't…" He trailed off, breaking eye contact.

"Please don't take it to heart," she said. "Just because people are closed-minded and can't be compassionate doesn't mean that you should have to suffer because of them."

"It's fine," he said, shaking his head. "Nothing is different."

Quatre turned and walked back over to his seat. He'd had a bit of a schoolboy crush on Noin since he'd met her. It had more or less worn off a long time ago, but things like this made him relapse.

He sat down, and Duo glanced over at him.

"What's your problem, Quatre?" Duo asked abruptly, his voice low, returning his gaze to Relena, who was still at the podium.

"My problem? Nothing Duo, I'm okay," Quatre answered, blinking.

"C'mon. If nothing was wrong you wouldn't be sitting there looking like your dog just died."

"I never had a dog," Quatre told him.

"Quit changing the subject."

"Sorry."

"Excuse me, gentlemen," one of the other delegates said, leaning back in his chair. "I believe the lady is trying to make a speech…"

"Well excuse _me_," Duo began sarcastically.

"Sorry, sir," Quatre cut him off.

"…so again, I'd like to thank you all for coming. There are coffee and doughnuts in the back of the room, so please feel free to squeeze breakfast in before the first presentation," Relena told everyone pleasantly.

Duo took her at her word, stood, and beckoned Quatre to follow.

Standing by the refreshment table, Quatre plopped a tea bag into a cup of hot water while Duo gulped his black coffee and munched a cinnamon roll.

"So what's up?" Duo asked, swallowing.

"It's not important," Quatre said, pouring a packet of sugar in while his tea steeped.

"That's not what I asked," he pointed out, selecting another pastry. There was a pause while Duo chewed and regarded Quatre objectively. "By the way … you _do_ realize that you're on your third sugar packet, don't you?"

"Damn!" he said, looking down as his hand froze partway through the process of dumping sugar into his tea.

"Whoa! Now, I know you're upset."

"Must be the company I'm keeping," Quatre quipped, smiling through his blush. He took a drink of his tea, made a face, and stirred a little more vigorously.

"At last, I'm rubbing off on you," Duo said dryly, finishing his pastry and surveying the custard-filled, chocolate covered confections sitting in neat rows on the table.

"Duo…" Quatre began, still stirring his tea, as if it would help, "do people ever… recognize you?"

"Could anyone forget this face? I mean…other than Trowa."

"Seriously, Duo," Quatre pleaded.

"Yeah, they do. I have to admit it's a little freaky when people get all weirded out when you introduce yourself, and…" Duo fell silent, looking at his coffee.

"Nicely done," Zechs told Noin quietly as she returned to her seat.

"Thanks. Although, I think the presentation itself was better last time. But it definitely ended better today," she commented with a wry smile.

"I imagine so," he said flatly. He was glad she was relaxed enough to joke about it, but couldn't help feeling that she was masking any residual discomfort with humor.

Quatre took the podium and nervously straightened his speech. Heero had been imperturbable, as usual, Trowa, an experienced performer, hadn't minded the crowd, Wufei had been all but scornful, but none of them had quite matched Duo's poise and sincerity.

Shyly making eye contact, Quatre adjusted the microphone. "Unlike Mr. Maxwell, I _did_ spend quite a long time on my speech. Unfortunately, I'm extremely nervous, and forgot most of it," Quatre told his sympathetic audience, blushing a little. They laughed politely as he shuffled through his papers, attempting to decide what important points he wanted to make before he lost his nerve.

Zechs felt an instant of lightheadedness, perhaps from the warmth in the room, or the bright lights - how odd… He steadied himself by laying a hand on the table he was sitting at. When the mist cleared from his vision, details were clamoring for his attention like a group of unruly children. The threads of the tablecloth occupied the nerve endings of his fingertips, and his brain labelled each of the smells meandering about the room – his coffee, Noin's shampoo-tinged scent, the glob of chocolate-peanut butter-maple and outright sugarness coming from the table of donuts. He saw how pale the strands of hair on his shoulder looked in the flourescent light, and how his hands trembled just slightly. Very odd.

Quatre's speech, beautiful and metaphoric – he caught something about beating swords into ploughshares – came through the curtain of surreal, confused sensory inputs only indistinctly. Most of what he could hear was the sound of his pulse.

He tried to grab onto that as a lifeline. The steady beating of his heart would help him focus…

But it was like trying to tap your foot to one of those pieces of contemporary music that constantly changes meter. Everytime he thought he'd found the pattern, it changed. It was erratic, and holding onto it dragged him further from reality.

For the second time in his life, he was quite acutely aware of the organ trying to pump blood through his body.

It didn't hurt, exactly. But he could feel it trying almost desperately to do what it ought to be doing, and not exactly succeeding. 


	8. 

Dr. Bronson was having a long day. There were so many new appointments today. By the time it go to be 5:30, he didn't even glance at any more than the last name on the chart before he got into the examination room, then went over the medical history with the patient. He was a specialist, so the complaints were basically the same, and the patients tended to be fairly similar as well. As a cardiologist, most of his patients were at least middle aged, many of them were men, and all of the new patients had the same frightened look in their eyes.

"All right, Mr. Merquise," the doctor said, reading the name from the chart and amusing himself by forming a mental image of the new patient. "Thank you for your patience. We've had a busy day." He glanced up…and nearly tripped.

It was a _boy_. The kid couldn't be a day over 21. That, in and of itself, was strange, but not unheard of. Even more disturbing, though, were the boy's calm, impassive expression and unreadable eyes.

"You've…had an irregular heartbeat?" he said, looking back at the chart.

"That's correct."

"I see you've had a heart attack in the past?" The doctor looked up in surprise.

"About two years ago," the patient affirmed.

"Are you going for two heart attacks before the age of 25? Some kind of record?"

Mr. Merquise was not amused. "No."

"These records are from a military medic," Dr. Bronson commented, flipping through the file.

"I was a member of Oz military," he replied, if possible, looking even more closed.

"A pilot?"

"Yes."

"Marvelous," the doctor remarked sarcastically. "The last Oz pilot who was my patient had cardiac issues as well. But believe me, they were the _least_ of his problems. That man was so battered physically and emotionally…" He looked inclined to continue, but stopped. "He was older than you are, though, so I'm not sure what affect that'll have. One would expect a younger person to… bounce back better, if you'll excuse the simplistic term."

"That seems reasonable," Zechs put in. Wing Zero had, in it's way, been more abusive than the Tallgeese, and Heero had never had physical problems with _it_. Had he? Then again, he didn't have a clear standard of comparison. His skills had improved so drastically after he'd mastered the Tallgeese, he couldn't predict how he would've reacted to Zero if he'd used it first.

"Are you in contact with any other former Oz pilots? I don't exactly _want_ to do a study, but the more cases I'm exposed to, the more I can help any of you…"

Zechs snorted. "There's one in the waiting room."

"Miss Noin?" the receptionist called.

Noin closed the glossy magazine of colorful pictures of wildlife and picturesque landscapes she'd been idly flipping through. "Yes?"

"Would you follow me to the examination room, please?"

Noin stood. "But…I…"

The woman paused and glanced over her shoulder. "Yes?"

Feeling the eyes of the people in the waiting room on her, she fell silent and followed.

Oh God… Was it bad enough that they would have to call her back? Let him be all right, she prayed…_dear God_ let him be all right….

The receptionist opened the door to the examination room and smiled plastically before heading back to the waiting room.

"Does she usually look that stricken, or has she been jumping to conclusions?" the middle-aged doctor with a cynical smile asked Zechs.

"I'm fine, Noin," he told her quickly. "Dr. Bronson wanted the comparison of another mobile suit pilot…" he explained.

"Nice to meet you, Miss Lucrezia Noin," the doctor greeted, shaking her hand. 

"Hello…" She was still a bit numb with residual relief and confusion.

"Have a seat, would you?" He wrapped the blood pressure monitor around her arm. "Lucrezia… quite a beautiful name."

"Thank you," she said flatly.

"It's from Shakespeare, if I'm not mistaken."

"You're not."

"What's the poem called…. _The Rape of Lucrece_?"

Noin nodded curtly.

"Hm…not quite the same as being named Juliet or Miranda or Helena or something, is it?"

"Not exactly…"

"Well, Miss Lucrezia, your blood pressure is normal."

"Please sir, I go by Noin," she told him shortly.

He made a disapproving sort of noise and proceeded with the examination.

"Miss Lu- Noin," he told her, pulling the stethoscope out of his ears, "you're a very healthy young woman."

"I'm pleased to hear it," she replied dryly.

"You're sure she's piloted mobile suits?" the doctor asked Zechs.

"_Kindly_ address questions about me _to me_," Noin said sharply.

"Very well then… is he sure you've piloted mobile suits?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Yes, he is."

"I believe the difference lies in the types of mobile suits we've used," Zechs told him, sounding tired.

"Hmm… Well, all right then," he conceded, humoring the patient. "Miss Noin, what have you piloted?" the doctor inquired.

She crossed her arms. "I was certified with the Picses and Cancer, but I usually piloted an Aries or a Taurus, and occassionally a Leo."

He scribbled each on a tablet for perscriptions, then looked up. "And Mr. Merquise?"

"I was certified with all major types of Oz mobile suits as well, but I also spent several months piloting the Leo prototype, and two variations on the Gundam design."

He looked up, his pen pausing partway through the word "prototype".

"I see."

"And that would explain your other patient, perhaps. Older models of the Leo might not have yet evolved out of Tallgeese's abusive tendencies," Zechs continued thoughtfully.

"That's…what you were piloting when you suffered your heartattack?" Dr. Bronson asked. "Did anyone else have problems with that particular mobile suit?"

Noin watched Zechs' knuckles turn white as he closed his eyes for an instant.

"Lt. Otto didn't survive the second…test flight," he told him in a very composed voice. Noin could still hear the pain lying very well hidden under his neutral tone. She wanted to lay her hand on his shoulder - a gesture of support, or comfort, but that was probably the last thing he needed.

"I understand Zero has killed its share of pilots as well," Noin interjected.

The doctor put his pen down. "We may want to pursue this speculation when I've had a chance to do some research, but until then I'll treat you just as I would any of my other patients."

Zechs was sorely tempted to respond to that, but resisted.

"Thank you very much for your time, Miss Noin. You can return to the waiting room now."

Noin looked at Zechs and shrugged, and he gave her a half-smile.

The door clicked shut softly behind her. "That was a beautiful girl…" Dr. Bronson stated reflectively.

"I believe we were discussing my heart," Zechs said pointedly, rubbing his temples.

"Oh, don't worry, she's too young for me."

The temperature of Zechs' gaze plummeted from cold to freezing.

"Rough audience…" he muttered. "Anyway," he continued more loudly, clearing his throat, "first things first. Do you smoke?"

"No."

"Good, don't start. Do you drink?"

"No."

"Good. Don't start that either. First, we're going to cut all of the caffeine out of your diet."

Zechs couldn't quite restrain his flinch.

"Coffee drinker, eh?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Well, get used to decaf, I guess. Is there a history of heart disease in the Merquise family?"

Zechs coughed. 

"I beg your pardon?" That had sounded entirely too much like an attempt to conceal a cynical laugh.

"I'm sorry, but to be honest, I have no idea. My parents died when I was six, along with the rest of my family. I'm not sure if any medical records are intact, but I could look into that."

"My resources are probably more extensive than yours. What was your father's name?" he asked, pen in hand again.

"Peacecraft," he answered, the muscles around his eyes tightening.

The doctor stared at what he'd just written. "Um… sorry, but… could you spell that?"

"P-e-a-c-e-c-r" Zechs began in an emotionless tone.

"Right, got it…" he interupted, looking a little more closely at the chart, and the first name accompanying Merquise. It must've been a longer day than he'd thought.

"I could've punched him," Noin stated, glaring over the steering wheel at the road.

"I could tell," Zechs replied, smiling. "There were a number of times I was tempted to myself. But trust me, he was better than the psychiatrist."

"The _what_?"

"Didn't Relena tell you?" he asked, amused.

"No, tell me what?" Noin asked, baffled, glancing at him quickly.

"Watch the road," he admonished.

Noin sighed. He did _not_ make a very good passenger.

"Didn't Relena tell you that she sent me to a psychiatrist?" he continued.

"No," Noin answered, trying to picture Zechs comfortably reclined on a psychiatrist's couch in deep introspection…. She laughed. "How long did that last? Thirty seconds?"

"An amazing minute and a half, I think," he said dryly. "I may have to have a talk with that girl…"

"Probably a good idea," Noin agreed. "I… was pretty worried back there for a while," she admitted, not taking her eyes from the road again.

"I could tell that too," he replied seriously. "Don't be. It's going to be fine."

"I hope you're right."

"How fast are you going?" he wanted to know, craning his neck to look at the speedometer, and obviously changing the subject.

"No as fast as Duo was going when he got his ticket," Noin retorted, grinning.


	9. 

"Noin, you're not coming to the conference this morning?" Relena asked, confused, as Noin entered the living room wearing jeans and a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

"No, that isn't a problem, is it?" she asked, a little nervously. 

"It's fine, but…"

"I promised Lady Une I'd weed the roses on his Excellency's grave. She can't make it this week – something about Mariemaia being in a school play. And I wanted to go anyway, so I told her I wouldn't mind taking care of it," she explained.

"Oh," Relena replied. There was an uncomfortable silence as the rest of the people in the room – the boys, Hildie, and Zechs – tried to figure out how they were supposed to respond to that.

"You wouldn't by any chance happen to have any garden gloves or pruning shears around, would you?" Noin asked hopefully.

Relena blinked.

"Nevermind," Noin said prudently. "It shouldn't take me long. I'll meet everyone for lunch, all right?"

Zechs knew he should go with her. He wanted to. After all, Treize had been his commanding officer, and his best friend. No… not his best friend. A very good friend, but not the best. His _best_ friend was digging through the jackets piled onto the rack by the door, and dreading having to sort through the jumble of shoes.

"Do you want some company?" he asked, pulling his own jacket off of the rack.

She looked up. "Um…sure, but…" Her eyes dropped.

"What?" he asked, pulling his jacket on.

"Milliardo…" Relena began, her voice tense. It disturbed him to have an entire roomful of people trying to avoid his eyes.

"It's just freaky to visit your own grave," Duo commented (audibly) under his breath. Hildie jabbed an elbow into his ribs. "What was _that_ for?" he demanded indignantly.

Hildie shrugged. "Reflex."

"Ow!" Noin abruptly let go of the handful of weeds she'd been tugging at. "Thistles! How long has it been since she's done this, anyway?" Looking a little put out, Noin brushed the worst of the mud off of her pricked, grass stained fingers.

Zechs smiled for a moment, but it faded back to a bemused expression as he turned back to the cemetary plot that occupied his attention. He was standing quite straight, with his hands in his pockets, and the wind playing with his hair.

It was a slab of marble with his name on it. Milliardo Peacecraft.

Perhaps it ought to bother him. He wasn't entirely sure that it didn't. But at the moment, it didn't seem to be sinking through his emotional shell. He turned back to Noin, who was still wrestling with the thistles.

"Do you need a hand?" he asked, taking a step closer.

"No…I've…got it," she said triumphantly as the tenacious roots gave and she fell backwards in a shower of loosened dirt. She shook some of the soil off of the clump, and patted it down around the pampered little rose bush.

"He would've approved," Zechs said unnecessarily. "Whose idea was it?"

"Lady Une's," Noin replied. "She said seeing all the dead flowers depressed her, and I think our bill at the florist's might've had something to do with it as well," she concluded with a wry smile.

"My dead flowers were somehow less depressing?" he teased.

Noin shrugged. "Relena and Dorothy brought some now and then, but the grounds crew usually took care of them before they came again. Lady Une was here pretty often for a while."

"You never…" he began, a little baffled.

"It would've been admitting you were gone," Noin explained quietly, seeming to read his thoughts. "So I never did." She seemed a little embarassed as she looked down at her hands, and past them. But when she lifted her face an instant later, she was smiling. "Do you realize how ludicrous this conversation is?" she wanted to know. "Who else could ever get jealous that their grave wasn't as well decorated as someone else's?"

Zechs pulled his eyes from Noin's smiling face as something large and wet plopped onto his forehead.

Noin muttered something that was probably profanity as she grabbed her pile of weeds, thistles and all, and stood from his Excellency's grave. She squinted at the sky, and blinked as another raindrop hit her eye.

"Shall we make a dash for the car?" he asked as a few more droplets sprinkled his shoulders.

"What do I do with these?' Noin asked, referring to her weeds.

"I'm sure the groundskeeper will take care of them," Zechs assured her, getting progressively wetter.

"It doesn't seem right, somehow," she objected, getting fairly damp herself.

"Here," he said, taking them from her and wincing as they pricked him as well. He deposited them rather unceremoniously beside the headstone marked "Milliardo Peacecraft."

"Zechs…" Noin admonished gently.

"Dandelions and thistles seem like an appropriate offering."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Looks like you brought me flowers after all," he teased, changing the subject.

"Lovely, aren't they?" she retorted, making a face.

"I'd rather your thistles than Dorothy or Relena's roses," he told her earnestly.

Noin blinked, then smiled. Both of them were, by then, very wet indeed.


	10. 

Damn.  

Zechs stared in disgust at the half-empty Styrofoam cup sitting beckoningly on the table.

"What's the matter?" Noin asked, leaning to peer into his cup with a grin.

"I'm not supposed to be drinking anything with caffeine," he said in frustration, pushing the mug back.

Noin gave him a look.  Resting his chin on his fist, he pondered a cup of herbal tea… hot water with lemon juice… warm milk?

"Well, the damage is done, so I might as well…." he rationalized, lifting the flimsy white vessel to his lips again.

Noin stood, pulled the cup out of his hands, and headed for the trash.

"Shame to waste it," he muttered.

"The starving children in the colonies don't want your lukewarm coffee," Noin retorted.  The warm dark liquid drained out of the cup and it soon joined its contents in the oblivion of the shiny black void of the garbage bag.

"I'm bored," Duo announced, not lifting his head from his folded arms.

"Dinner soon," Quatre pointed out optimistically.  Zechs and Noin had rejoined the others for lunch at the conference, and the scheduled presentations dragged on.  Some of them were probably even interesting and informative.  But none of the ones Duo had decided not to nap in.

"Yeah, well, I'm bored NOW," Duo retorted, raising his head _slightly_.  "You're all _boring_!" he accused theatrically.

"Duo," Trowa said, "we have ten minutes until the next presentation starts.  That's not enough time to prepare proper entertainment for _you_," he quipped sarcastically.

"Oh, the expert speaks.  Trowa knows _all_ about show biz…  I'm sure you can come up with something entertaining to kill some time…" Duo prompted, sitting up and putting his chin in his hands.

Wordlessly, Trowa stood, approached the table laden with stale doughnuts from that morning, and selected four at random.  Seconds later they were airborne, Trowa's quick hands keeping them aloft in a graceful ring.

"Sweet!  Show me," Duo jumped up and seated himself on the table in front of Trowa.

"You can't juggle?" Trowa asked, sounding surprised.

"It's not exactly a standard skill," Duo replied dryly.

"Maxwell only knows sit, stay, and play dead," Heero remarked, face blank.

"Harsh…very harsh," Duo accused, putting a dramatic hand at his heart as Hildie came perilously close to spitting her coffee on Wufei as she burst out laughing and Quatre chuckled quietly.

"_Seriously_," Duo addressed Trowa, ignoring the others, "can you show me how?"

Trowa, never one to waste breath when a gesture would suffice, shrugged.

"Okay," Duo began, taking the initiative.  "First I get some doughnuts."  He approached the table and grabbed a stack.

"Five for your first try?" Trowa asked skeptically, raising an eyebrow.

"Snack," Duo corrected, setting two of the doughnuts aside.

"Duo!  That's just sick!  Do you know how long those have been OUT?" Hildie demanded.

Duo took an experimental bite.  He smiled.  "Long enough to get crunchy."

Trowa blinked.  "These are the motions.  You might want to try them slowly before you add the props."  He demonstrated, then again set the pastries afloat with his smooth fluid movements.  Duo continued to munch, looking impressed.

A few of the delegates started filing back into the conference room.  Most contented themselves with double takes, but a few felt the need to stop in their tracks and stare. Upon entering, Noin blinked repeatedly, then burst out laughing.  

"You know…I don't think I want to know," she remarked, following Zechs back to the table where they'd been seated.  "It's funnier out of context, I'm sure." 

"I…think it's pretty funny no matter what," Quatre commented as Trowa concluded his performance by landing each doughnut squarely in the trashcan.  Duo, shaking his head at such wasteful attitudes, returned to his seat, potential props having joined the snack division.

If he could just… wait it out.  It would be over soon.  It was the coffee, and he knew it.  It would pass.  _Dear God let it pass…_

He'd steadied himself by placing his hand on his armrest – not realizing that Noin's elbow was already there.

"Hm?" she responded, turning slightly to face him.  She took in his pale (well, paler than usual, anway) face with it's slight sheen of sweat, and the intense, but glazed way his eyes were fixed on some point she couldn't see.

"Zechs… are… are you okay?" she asked, raising her hand to place her index and middle finger at his neck, just under his jaw.  It wasn't a medic's practiced, businesslike gesture, but a soldier's timid one, afraid of what she'd feel…

Apparently, his syncopated pulse wasn't much of a comfort.

She wasn't sure why she did it.  It was a simple, child-like gesture – 

She picked up his hand and placed it over her heart.

_Here, this is what it's supposed to feel like. _

Gradually, his eyes came back into focus, and he smiled weakly at her as she released his hand.

"No more coffee.  I promise."


	11. 

It was one of those bizzarre dreams in which the dreamer was well aware of being dreaming.

Zechs sat up on the psychiatrist's couch and looked, blinking, at what _should have been the psychiatrist._

It was Howard.  Sunglasses, Hawaiian shirt, sandals and all.

"Hey, Milliardo, man.  Long time no see," he greeted in his laidback manner, slouching in his chair.

"Zechs, Howard.  You know me as Zechs."  It was a dream, right, so he was allowed to be illogical and less than polite, wasn't he?

"Don't get touchy, man," Howard chided.  "They're both you, right?"

"Right…"

"You told me once that Zechs Merquise was dead," Howard ventured.

"I've said a lot of stupid things," Zechs retorted.

Howard laughed his rasping laugh.  "Haven't we all?"

Zechs wasn't quite sure how to respond to that.  He was pretty sure nothing Howard had said could touch "to eliminate wars, we must eliminate earthlings…"

"So… how's that nice little Noin chick?" Howard interrupted that train of thought, trying to make conversation.

"She's fine," Zechs answered.

"Marry her yet?"

Zechs blinked.

"You know she won't wait forever."

He blinked again.

"Fine, so she will, but that doesn't mean you should _make her."_

"Howard…"

"All right, we'll change the subject…again," Howard conceded.

Zechs laid his head back against the couch for a moment.  When he looked up, Howard was gone.

"Hello, Zechs, my friend," Treize greeted politely.  "Or perhaps you'd prefer 'Prince Milliardo'?"

Zechs'eyes narrowed.  "You're as terrible at staying dead as I am," he accused.

"That's a warm greeting," Treize commented mildly.  "And, not quite."

"Not quite what?"

"As bad at staying dead as you are.  After all, you're fast asleep, flesh and blood, and I'm only a figment of your imagination.  Freud would have a field day."

"I think I preferred Howard," Zechs retorted sourly.

"There's no need to be unkind, Ze-" Treize interupted himself.  "You never told me what you wanted to be called," he pointed out.  "Do you prefer the blood-stained hero or the vengeful prince?"

When he was a child, Zechs Merquise was the boy how entered the military academy, to keep the name Peacecraft clean.  He knew that it didn't actually change anything.  He was the same person – Milliardo had still betrayed the ideals of the father he worshipped.  But the name Peacecraft wouldn't be heard in connection with the Earth Sphere Alliance that had destroyed the Sanq Kingdom.  When he left Oz, he still had the name Milliardo Peacecraft – one unmarked by scandal and dubious fame – to fall back on.  And after White Fang… after Libra… Zechs was the comparatively unblemished name.  Zechs was the name that didn't make people avert their eyes so he couldn't see their fear.  Names, after all, are for the convenience of others, and his identity wasn't tied up in either of them.

"Call me whatever you like," Zechs told him, looking up to meet Treize's eyes.

But Treize had gone.  Zechs was sorry – firstly that he hadn't been kinder to his friend while he was there, and secondly, because of who had replaced him…

"Mr. Milliardo," Dorothy gushed,  "as magnificent as ever."  Her pale violet eyes swept over his form sprawled on the couch.

"Dorothy," he said dryly, somewhere between a greeting and a statement of fact, rubbing his temples.

"I must say I _am disappointed in you.  You had such a beautiful, moving death.  It's a pity you couldn't do the thing properly."_

"_Properly?" Zechs asked incredulously._

"Suicide wouldn't do at all… I suppose _I could kill you… Wouldn't that be marvelous?"_

Zechs sat up straighter, alarmed.  "What?!"

"How lovely and tragic!  Now you _will take it well, won't you?" she asked, pulling out a fencing foil.  "Don't fight too much, or you won't look as beautiful in your coffin as you do now.  Miss Relena and I will mourn for you!  Now hold still Mr. Milliardo!"_

Dorothy lunged, and Zechs dodged, diving off of the couch.

"It's a dream," he assured himself, heart racing as he lay facedown on the floor.  "When I look up, she'll be gone…"

He looked up.  The psychiatrist's office had gone back to being Relena's darkened living room, where he was laying in a tangle of sheets on the floor beside the couch.

After the incident with his heart, he wasn't supposed to be driving.  So to facilitate transportation, he was staying with Relena.

As he was extricating himself from the sheet, he saw the light click on in the hallway and heard soft footsteps.

"I heard a thud," Relena whispered, poking her head into the living room.

He tried to laugh.  "I must've rolled off the couch."  The girl had good ears, not to mention being a light sleeper.

"Are you okay?" she asked, coming the rest of the way into the room.

"Fine."

"Is the couch too small, or… you know you can have my room.  It wouldn't take five minutes to get clean sheets, and…"

"It's _fine Relena.  There's nothing wrong with the couch.  I just had some bizarre dream."_

Her expression grew stricken.  "Another…"

"No. Not… like the others."  He laughed.  "Dorothy was trying to stab me, and I dodged a little too well."

Relena made a face.  "Most people would categorize that as a nightmare," she stated.

"I wouldn't."   Oh _God… it was bad enough that he had to dream them… did he have to remember then when he was awake, and see them so vividly again?  His own little childish hands of thirteen, perhaps fourteen years ago, on the armrests of Libra's command chair, booted feet dangling far from the floor as he watched the heavy gray cloud spread over Earth's blue-green face…_

That one wasn't as bad as the other that began so mundanely – as a memory of when he was an OZ officer.  His shift was over, and he was tired.  He'd returned to his quarters, and was about to pull off his mask to wash his face...

And it wouldn't budge.  He suppressed his panic instinct for as long as he could, but soon he was tearing at it, his fingers soon stained as crimson as his uniform by his vain efforts, and the silver slippery with blood.

It _was his, wasn't it?  Who else's could it be?  He couldn't even put a name to all the people whose blood he'd spilled…_

"Milliardo, I'm _worried about you," Relena said, her voice soft and earnest, cutting through his rather morbid musings before he got a chance to dwell on the worst of the dreams._

"Dear little Relena…"

"Not so little anymore," she pointed out, sitting down on the floor beside him.

"No," Zechs concurred, smiling affectionately.

"I haven't seen that much of you since you've been here," she stated, looking away.  "I'm sorry I've been so busy, but…"

He knew what the "but…" was.  He'd been spending most of the time out of the conference with Noin.

"It's not like you two don't usually see each other every day," Relena continued quietly.

"Nor is it as if you don't usually see Heero every day," he pointed out.

Relena blushed.  "So we're even."

"I _am sorry if I've been ignoring you, though…"_

She shook her head.  "You haven't.  I have been busy. By the way… when do I get to plan a wedding?" she asked, grinning.

"Relena," he admonished.

"Well, it's a valid question," she said defensively.

"You tell me then.  When are you getting married?" he retorted sarcastically.

"That's _not what I meant and you know it."  She heaved a theatrical sigh, a mischievous glint in her eye.  "A __princess of Peacecraft couldn't get away with shacking up with an Imperial Guard…"_

"Relena!" Zechs said, sounding shocked, but keeping his voice down, so as not to wake the Imperial Guard in question.  "You know very well that I… that we…"

Relena giggled.

"Noin and I are _not living together," he stated seriously, trying very hard to ignore how red his face was getting._

"You're _fun to tease," she laughed, shaking her head._

He made a face at her.  "I think that Maxwell boy is a bad influence on you."


End file.
